


Only the Start of the Playoffs

by Raven17



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Injury, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Tyler's sex tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:37:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6295336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven17/pseuds/Raven17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler has surgery on his achilles, then has feel-better sex with Jamie.</p><p>------</p><p>"The doctor said to take it easy, Tyler."</p><p>“I doubt he had…” Tyler says tightly, gasping when Jamie widens his fingers.  “…this in mind.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only the Start of the Playoffs

**Author's Note:**

> I felt there had to be something written about Tyler’s injury.
> 
> I meant to actually write something with feelings, Tyler being upset because of the timing of it all, Jamie trying to tell him it’ll be okay because he’ll be back for the playoffs, they’ll make sure he gets to play again, but somewhere along the line, it just devolved pretty quickly and shamelessly into smut. Sorry, not sorry?
> 
> This is completely un-betaed, apologies for any mistakes and/or typos. 
> 
> The usual disclaimer applies. I know no one, own no one, nothing. None of this is true. Except Tyler's injury.

Jamie’s sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper when Tyler shoulders his front door open and fumbles with getting his crutches up and over the small ledge.

He starts to get up, folding the newspaper back up. “Should have called me.”

“Thought you’d be at practice, or, fuck…” Tyler curses as he loses hold on one of his crutches. He hops on one foot over the threshold of the door, holding the other crutch uselessly. “…at your apartment. Not here. What are you even doing here?”

Jamie catches him with one hand under his arm easily as he stumbles and loses the other crutch to the floor. Tyler grunts at the jolt to his body, folds slightly inward and unconsciously bends his knee, drawing his surgically repaired ankle up.

“Okay, buddy.” Jamie tucks himself underneath one of Tyler’s arms, getting an arm around his waist and straightening, hauling Tyler up with him to near-standing. Tyler keeps his ankle drawn up, careful to not put any weight on it. “C’mon. Get you to the couch.” Jamie mutters. 

“What—what are you doing here?” Tyler repeats as Jamie helps him hobble across the parquet floor of his entry hall and into the softly carpeted living room.

“Waiting on you, dumbass.” Jamie deposits him on the sofa, leaves him to shift into a more comfortable position on his own while Jamie goes to retrieve the fallen crutches and close the font door. “Should have called me. I’d have come to pick you up.”

“I thought you’d be at practice.” Tyler grumbles, getting his hands around his calf to lift his leg onto the coffee table. It’s wrapped in white gauze, a plastic brace fixed over the gauze, extending up over his injured Achilles and to mid-calf, keeping his ankle at a proper angle.

“Skipped it.” Jamie says needlessly. “Wanted to…” He shrugs. “When you didn’t call I just came here. You’d be better off at mine, you know. Less walking.” He doesn’t add that he’d be able to take care of Tyler there. Better able to take care of Tyler, anyway. He’s got no plans of going back to his place if Tyler’s planning to stay here.

Tyler grunts and shrugs, leaning into the cushions of the couch, tilting his head back and grimacing.

Jamie drops the crutches near the edge of the sofa, Tyler’s keys on the table, and sits down, picking up the bag Tyler dropped on the cushion next to him. There are instructions for immediate care, replacing the bandage, re-applying the splint, how to shower in the morning, things like that. There’s also a bottle of prescription painkiller, release paperwork including a date for his follow-up appointment, as well as a card with a pre-scheduled date for his first round of therapy. 

“Fuckin’ can’t do anything for three days.” Tyler grouses.

“Did they give you a time frame at all?” Jamie asks, reading the label on the bottle of painkillers. “Coach told us four weeks minimum.”

“Yeah.” Tyler doesn’t offer anything further, though, and he reaches out to paw at the bottle in Jamie’s hands. “Gimme those.”

Jamie blinks as the bottle falls out of his hands to the sofa and Tyler grabs it, fumbling with the cap.

Jamie snatches it out of his hands. “When was the last time you took one of these?”

“I don’t know.” Tyler looks at him incredulously. “Sometime at the hospital, whatever, man, it fuckin’ hurts. Hand them over!”

Jamie glances at the time. It’s nearly eleven in the morning. Tyler’s surgery was before dawn, at four, and they probably gave him something afterwards. The bottle says one every four hours as needed, not to exceed 5 in twenty-four hours.

“I’ll get you some water.” Jamie stands up, takes the prescription bottle with him as he goes to the kitchen for a glass of water. He hands Tyler the glass and one pill when he gets back.

“Gonna fuckin’ dispense my medication?” Tyler snips. “I can take care of myself, you know.” He tilts his head back as he swallows the pill, takes a few more sips of water afterwards.

“You need to eat?” Jamie asks. He knows from past experience when Tyler hurt his back pretty badly that the pain pills can sometimes upset Tyler’s stomach.

Tyler shrugs and rolls his head along the back of the couch, grunts something that sounds like a ‘nah’. “Just want to rest.”

Jamie leaves Tyler to nap on the couch, reads the rest of the paper, hits the home gym Tyler has to put in a few rounds on the bike and get some light weight, high rep work in with the barbell and freeweights. He checks on Tyler after a couple hours, finds him snoring lightly and drapes a blanket over him before calling his brother from the kitchen.

“How’s he doing?” Jordie asks without preamble as he picks up the phone.

“He’s okay. You know how he is when he’s laid up.”

Jordie gives a grunt of understanding. “You guys coming back here tonight?”

Jamie thinks about that. He knows Tyler would be better off recuperating at his place, at least for the first few days—he’s on one floor as opposed to Tyler’s two, and things are slightly less spread out, so there’s not as far to walk to get around from the kitchen to the living room, the bedrooms and bathroom. He doesn’t know how Tyler’s going to feel, if he’s going to be up for moving anywhere tonight. If Jamie doesn’t want him sleeping on the couch, he might very well be carrying Tyler to bed.

“Not sure. He’s napping right now, I’ll ask him what he wants to do when he wakes up.”

“Let me know and I’ll order food.” 

“Will do.” Jamie sighs and ends the call. It’s already getting on towards two in the afternoon. He can’t let Tyler sleep any more or he won’t sleep at night—he’ll be up and in pain—and that means Jamie won’t be getting any sleep, either. They should also figure out if they’re going back to Jamie’s or settling Tyler in here somehow.

He braces himself for what will undoubtedly be a miserable task—waking Tyler up—and wanders to the living room. Tyler’s still asleep, or appears to be, head tilted back over the top of the sofa, lips slightly parted. Jamie stands behind the sofa and lays a gentle hand on Tyler’s shoulder, readying to shake him when Tyler squints open one eye to look at him. “M’wake.” Tyler slurs, and re-closes his eye.

“Yeah.” Jamie breathes, moving around the sofa to sit down next to Tyler. “You want to stay here?” He asks.

“Or?” Tyler asks, shifting his weight and wincing when the plastic brace on his ankle rubs across the wood of the table. 

“Or,” Jamie pauses. “Think you’d want to move and go…” 

“To Casa de Benn?” Tyler finishes Jamie’s sentence. “I don’t know. Get me another painkiller? I’ll think on it.”

“Four hours, Tyler. It’s only been three.”

“Fuck you.” Tyler retorts, without heat, as he makes a show of lifting his leg and moving it to the sofa, stretching it out over the cushions until the heel of his splint presses against Jamie’s shins where’s he’s sitting Indian-style at the other end. He tosses the blanket to one side, exaggerates his every wince, shifts uncomfortably and moans for good measure. Jamie’s not sure how much of it is an act, but he’s pretty sure Tyler’s not in _that_ much pain.

“Dude, you’re not winning this one.” Jamie says with a barely-concealed laugh. “I had hip surgery, remember?”

“This is my heel! I can’t walk!” Tyler flops his head back against the pillow and armrest, throws his arm over his eyes melodramatically. “I can’t _skate_!”

The corner of Jamie’s mouth tilts up in a half-smirk. “You’ll live.”

“You don’t know that! I could be _dying_ here!” 

Jamie can see Tyler’s eyes are slitted open and that he’s watching from under his arm as Jamie reaches to lay a hand on the side of Tyler’s shin, just above the top of the plastic brace. He rubs lightly over the cotton of Tyler’s sweats.

Tyler’s leg twitches, and he sucks in a breath at the contact, whether it’s from pain or arousal, Jamie’s not entirely sure. He unfolds from cross-legged to his knees on the sofa, leans forward to press a palm down between Tyler’s hip and the back of the sofa, supporting himself as he hovers over Tyler. He’s not unaware of his position, head directly over Tyler’s hips. “I sincerely doubt that you’re _dying_.” Jamie says lowly.

“Should make sure of that.” Tyler’s voice thickens, his adopted Texas twang over Canadian accent drawling slow like honey. It’s ridiculous, but it makes Jamie’s dick twitch in his pants.

Jamie moves carefully over Tyler, tugging at the elastic waist of his pants until Tyler shifts his hips and both his pants and boxers slide down to mid-thigh easily. Jamie moves one hand to cup Tyler’s balls, his other still holding him up over Tyler. “Nope… not dying.” Jamie confirms, sliding his palm from Tyler’s balls up the length of his half-hard cock, dragging his thumb across the slit.

Tyler gasps, and jerks his hips up.

“I think… you’re supposed to be taking it easy.” Jamie says with a grin, pressing a hand to Tyler’s hip, pushing him back down.

“Ja--mie!”

“Shhh…” Jamie murmurs. “I got you,” he says, and looks up at Tyler as he sinks down, elbows falling to either side of Tyler’s hips and lips pressing a kiss to the crown of Tyler’s dick.

Tyler mumbles incoherently and fists a hand in Jamie’s hair as Jamie licks his lips and parts them around Tyler’s girth.

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby…” Jamie murmurs. 

He moves slowly, keeping a languid pace as he bobs up and down, saliva pooling in his mouth and along Tyler’s dick, easing his movement.

“Fuck, Jamie…” Tyler breathes, fingers twitching against Jamie’s scalp as he forces them to relax. He pets at Jamie’s hair, idly combs his fingers through it as Jamie continues his leisurely pace, hollowing his cheeks and sucking lightly, laying the flat of his tongue along the vein on the underside of Tyler’s cock.

“C’mon, Tyler.” Jamie says, pulling off for a moment with a slurp. “Fuck my mouth. I want you to.”

It’s not that easy from the bottom, but Tyler snaps his hips up best he can, driving the head of his cock into the back of Jamie’s throat. He tightens his grip in Jamie’s hair, holds him down as he lifts his hips again and again, just enough to rub into Jamie’s throat over and over. Jamie’s not going to be able to talk later.

Tyler looks down over his chest at Jamie, and Jamie stares up at him, mouth wide around his cock, and it’s just too much. Tyler’s hips jerk, once, twice, pushing deep into Jamie’s mouth, choking him, and Tyler’s coming, hot and hard down Jamie’s throat.

“That’s it, Jamie…” Tyler groans, falling back against the sofa afterwards, hips sinking down, cock sliding from between Jamie’s pink lips. “God… so good… your _mouth_ …”

“Yeah?” Jamie rasps with a leer.

Tyler’s reaching above his head, over the arm of the sofa, fumbling with the drawer in the table. “You can fuck me.” He says, voice wrecked. “Just… watch the leg, man.”

“Lube?”

Tyler tosses a tube at him and slaps at the small drawer until it closes. Jamie works Tyler’s pants off, gently bends the knee of his injured leg, lays his foot flat against the sofa, leans the knee against the back, supporting it and keeping it out of the way, while opening Tyler up to him.

Tyler’s dick is messy, shining with spit and come, softening along his belly, and it slides easily between them as Jamie covers Tyler’s body with his own. Tyler’s hands fumble with Jamie’s track pants, shoving them over his hips and quickly working a condom onto him. Jamie’s not sure where he had the condom stashed, maybe in the drawer with the lube, but it doesn’t matter.

Jamie dribbles lube over his fingers and quickly gets two inside of Tyler, slicking him, scissoring them to gently stretch him. “Okay, Tyler?” He asks, checking in.

Tyler nods. “Just… Jesus, man, I’m not going to _break_.”

Jamie smacks his hip and works a third finger in, making Tyler arch up underneath him. “The doctor said to take it easy, Tyler.”

“I doubt he had…” Tyler says tightly, gasping when Jamie widens his fingers. “…this in mind.”

Jamie grunts and lifts his chin to get his mouth on Tyler’s jaw, mouthing along the curve of bone as he fingers Tyler open. He shifts so their faces are more even with one another, and slots his mouth over Tyler’s, tongue licking inside. His lips drag on Tyler’s as he breaks the kiss. “Gonna go slow… take you apart…”

Tyler whimpers and rolls his hips against Jamie’s, feeling the heat of Jamie’s erection even through the condom against his spent cock. 

Jamie pulls his fingers out and squeezes more lube onto them, slicking his cock until he can push into Tyler in one smooth glide. They both groan as Jamie gets balls-deep, and rests a hand on Tyler’s hip to settle him as he twitches. “Easy, baby… I got you…” Jamie murmurs.

Jamie pulls out, thrusts back in lightly and starts an achingly slow rhythm that makes them both edgy and desperate. He nips at Tyler’s upper lip, kisses him, slow and messy before lifting up to look down at Tyler. 

Jamie props himself up on an elbow as he rocks into Tyler, rubs along Tyler’s hip with his other hand. Tyler’s head is thrown back, and the expression on his face is a mix of pain and pleasure.

“How’s the ankle?”

“Hurts.” Tyler murmurs, shifting his hips lower, sighing as Jamie slides deeper. “T’sokay… just…” He arches back as the head of Jamie’s cock brushes over his prostate. “…yeah… like that…”

Jamie moves his hand from Tyler’s hip to his cheek, thumbs at his mouth, looks down at him thoughtfully. Tyler’s pupils are blown wide, and his breath is harsh. “Like that, Jamie… right there…” Tyler manages.

Jamie slows his movements, pushes and stills, holding himself deep inside of Tyler, stares down at him. Tyler shifts after a few moments, wriggles under Jamie, trying to get some friction on his cock, which is giving a valiant effort to rejoin the party. He whimpers when Jamie moves his hand back to his hip, presses down, holds him still. “You’re going to play again this year.” Jamie says softly, the look in his eyes as serious as his voice. It’s a promise, and of course Jamie would know what Tyler’s thinking, of course he would know Tyler’s darkest fears.

There’s no reason for him to think he won’t. Four weeks is just to the end of the season, and there’s no reason to believe the Stars aren’t going to make the post-season. They may not make it in as the top seed, or the number two seed, but they’re going to be there.

Jamie holds his gaze until it’s too much and Tyler looks away. “First round, if…”

“No ifs.” Jamie presses his mouth to Tyler’s, and it’s suddenly enough to raise tears in Tyler’s eyes. He blinks and swallows thickly as Jamie continues. “We’re going to do this, and you’re going to take the time you need to heal, and you’re going to play again. This year. In Dallas. You’re going to score a goal, you’re going to be fine.”

“You can’t promise that, Jamie.” Tyler whispers. 

Jamie’s still deep inside of him, hasn’t moved in what feels like ages, and Tyler feels like he’s been split apart, laid open and bare, vulnerable under Jamie’s intense gaze that says yes, he can promise that, and so much more. It’s too much.

“Please…” Tyler mewls, arching up, needing Jamie to move, needing him to do something before Tyler breaks into a million pieces.

“Told you I was going to take you apart.” Jamie whispers, moving just his hips, shifting in a slow circle. 

“Jamie…” Tyler lays a hand low on Jamie’s back, presses down as he moves his other arm over his eyes, traitorious as they are, threatening to spill with tears that he can’t let Jamie see. “Please… I—I can’t…”

Jamie reaches his hand between them to give Tyler’s cock a few slow strokes, moves it up to pull Tyler’s arm from his face. “Yeah, you can…” He pushes Tyler’s arm against the couch, rolls his hips, earning a low moan from Tyler.

“Jamie…”

“Don’t hide from me.” Jamie whispers along his jawline, mouthing at his stubble, breathing hot and wet onto his ear. “C’mon, Tyler… “ He pulls out, just an inch or so, pushes back in with a powerful thrust. 

Tyler arches his back and keens, eyes closing and tears sliding down his cheeks. “Please, Jamie…” He pleads. He moves his good leg, planting his foot on the sofa, pushing up best he can with one leg. He lets his other leg straighten, stiffens slightly at the drag of pain in his ankle even at the gentle slide of the splint along the couch. “Please…”

Jamie works his lips back down Tyler’s stubbled cheek, captures his lips in an unhurried kiss. He starts the same easy, dragging pace he had before, keeps at it until Tyler’s whining and begging beneath him, hands sliding over his body, trailing up his spine, down again to clutch at his ass.

“Ple—ase.” Tyler’s breath catches wetly.

Jamie works a hand between them, finds Tyler’s cock and jacks it with a touch too gentle to get Tyler off. 

“Jamie! Please!” Tyler’s trembling, his whole body is shaking under Jamie, primed to come, reaching for the orgasm Jamie’s holding just out of reach. “Ple—ase…” Tyler begs.

Jamie’s hips stutter, and his hands works Tyler’s cock a little more roughly. “Come for me.” Jamie murmurs, and Tyler does, shooting hot and thick between them, entire body shaking with the force of his orgasm.

Jamie works him through it, kisses him, swallows his cries, and pumps his hips once, twice, again until he comes as well. He slides out of Tyler as gently as possible, gathers him up in strong arms when his body gives out and goes limp underneath Jamie. 

Tyler’s still fucked-out and motionless when Jamie gets up to dispose of the condom and clean up. He moans something unintelligible when Jamie wipes him down with a warm cloth, whimpers only slightly when Jamie drags the cloth between his legs and over his sensitive hole, tucks him back into his pants.

Jamie tosses the washcloth on the plastic bag that held Tyler’s medication and release papers and sinks down next to him on the sofa. 

“How’s the ankle?” Jamie asks.

Tyler moves it tentatively, thinks for a minute and lifts a shoulder. “Okay. It’s not really better or worse, y’know?”

“Any pain?”

“It hurts, Jamie, I mean… I had surgery. It’s…” He shrugs again.

Jamie gets it. It’s a feeling that something isn’t _right_ , even if it’s not necessarily _painful_. He’s been there before.

“Need a pill?”

Tyler shakes his head where it rests on a pillow near the armrest, staring up at the ceiling. “Not yet. Maybe later.” He says. 

“Did you want to go to my place?” Jamie asks.

“It’d be easier.” Tyler mumbles, and it sounds somewhat like a question.

“Yeah.” Jamie pokes him in the ribs gently “I’m not carrying you up these stairs to bed.”

“You would.” Tyler grins, pushing at the offending hand.

“Maybe.” Jamie allows, hiding a smile. “Jordie said he’d get dinner.”

Tyler closes his eyes and nods. “Yeah, okay… tell him we’ll be over.”

Jamie nods even though Tyler can’t see it, pats at Tyler’s hip as he stands. “Okay. Maybe a half hour?”

“Sure.” 


End file.
